


It's Not Our Fight

by Alone_on_the_water



Series: I am the Mockingjay [2]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 13:57:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2027610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alone_on_the_water/pseuds/Alone_on_the_water
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to "A Pawn of the Gods". Middle Earth was supposed to be a sanctuary for Katniss Everdeen to survive the final year, free from Kronos' dark clutches. Yet safety was no longer an option for her as she got involved in a tide-changing war that was not hers to fight. Could she survive and complete the prophecy, or would the growing darkness in Middle Earth claim her before that?</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Not Our Fight

I spent the last few days familiarizing myself with my new home. Surprisingly, it was not that different from Camp, with pavilions, sculptures, gardens, and sparring grounds. It seems that every corner I turned on, I could discover something new. I walked along one of the passageways and ended up on a high garden above the steep banks of the river. Shadows had fallen in the valley below, but there was still a light on the faces of the mountains far above. The whole compound was built like a fortress, yet it was relaxing enough for a person to come and soothe his mind. Time doesn’t seem to pass here, it just does.

I didn’t want to leave.

Only two weeks since I left my beloved city of Manhattan behind, yet the thoughts of home had already started to nab away at my heart, bit by bit. I enjoyed the peace and quiet of this place, as it helps take my mind off from things like the ongoing war preparations back at home, my friends at Camp, and…the _oh-so-very-great_ prophecy about me that is going to change everything once and for all. But still, Lord Elrond told me go explore the world, in the name of “meeting more of his kin”. I had protested a bit ( _okay, a lot_ ) but he just wouldn’t budge. And that was why I was now leaning on the railing at the edge of Rivendell with a fully packed backpack, an elvish phrasebook in hand, waiting for Blackjack to arrive.

Lord Elrond had also promised me a guide and a travel buddy, though truthfully I wasn’t too keen on travelling with an elf. I had full plans to leave as soon as Blackjack got here and ditch the guide. _Who cares about losing my way in this new world? I do dangerous stuff all the time._ It wasn’t that I didn’t like elves…ugh…how do I say this? They were always so proud and distant, and often studied me curiously like a zoo animal. _They could have been statues for all I cared!_ Well, ok, fine… _I will admit that I didn’t like them._ The only elf I didlike was Elrond’s daughter Arwen, who had been watching out for me ever since I arrived. It did not take that long for us to grow close, with her filling me in on elvish history and me entertaining her with all the stories of my adventures back on Earth, heroic and stupid ones alike.

Speaking of close, _where the Hades is that horse?_

* * *

Finally, a little black spot came into view with a neigh: Blackjack. She landed on the pavilion with a gallop and slowed to a stop right beside me. She had a pair of bulging saddlebags slung on her flanks. I smiled and stroked her mane as she nuzzled my neck gently.

 _“They didn’t pack any sugar cubes or powdered doughnuts for me, boss.”_ Blackjack whined indignantly. “ _They just keep stuffing my sacks with hay and oats, which are nice enough, but I need sugar! Horses need sugar, especially us Pegasi. We need more glucose to work our wing muscles.”_

I shrugged nonchalantly. “Well, the other horses here seem happy enough...” I said, and started doing a last minute check on the supplies. “Wait-I didn’t remember seeing you go to school…did you chew out a science book when I wasn’t watching?” I feigned anger at this knowledge.

Blackjack huffed, _“Boss, how many times do I have to tell you to accept the fact that we Pegasi are smarter than you think? Besides, as your personal steed, I did get a higher level education than the others. That also means I get better food._

“Pfft, really…” I huffed, barely holding back a smirk as I shouldered my bow, “The horses here have never needed sugar or donuts, and they all seem strong and healthy enough.”

Blackjack sniffed. “ _They don’t have Pegasi here, do they? Pegasi are a different breed from normal earth horses…or Middle Earth horse…”_

I rubbed her flank. “Liar, the other Pegasi at camp eat just the same thing.”

_“I said I am your personal steed.”_

_“_ Huh…you know, there is this thing in the world called a ‘diet’, and you could really use one.”

“ _I resent that statement.”_

“Fine, have it your way. Don’t say I didn’t warn you when you become the fattest horse in Rivendell and fall out of the sky someday. Don’t blame me if I say ‘I told you so’ if that happens. You have been warned.”

“ _Pegasus!”_

 _“_ Whatever.” I dug into my pocket and got out a piece of bread smeared with honey, the closest equivalent they had to powdered donuts here in this medieval world, and tossed it to Blackjack, who gulped it up triumphantly. We shared a quiet chuckle. It felt so good to be near a familiar person/Pegasus in this strange new world.

Suddenly, someone cleared their throat behind me. I yelped in surprise, dropping my packs, whirled around in one fluid motion, and ended up in a battle stance with Riptide raised high. The speaker behind me chuckled and held out his hands, palms out, in the universal gesture of _peace._ “Easy there, I mean you no harm.” I studied the man curiously, reluctant to lower my sword just yet. I’d say he was around middle-aged, with ragged hair-cut and random stubbles sticking out in random directions all over his face. He wasn’t an elf, I am positively sure of that one. _All the elves I’d met around here were always clean shaven and extremely concerned with their personal hygiene._

Anyways, back to the man. I was quite surprised at his arrival, as I had never even heard him coming. He certainly looked the part of a traveler, with a long, stained cloak and a staff in his hands. I noticed the glint of a sword hilt by his belt, half concealed by his cloak. Was _he_ the guide Elrond had promised? The stranger cleared his throat again, and I realized that I was still pointing Riptide at him. He eyed Riptide slightly, and said: “You can put your sword away now. I said I am not here to harm you.”

I eyed him warily, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that he could easily see through the Mist and know that Riptide is a sword not a baseball bat, but he seemed quite friendly. That and the fact that he hasn’t pulled out his sword on me yet made me decide to trust him. I capped Riptide and put it back into my pocket. The stranger raised an eyebrow as he saw the sword shrink, but he made no comment.

Blackjack curiously nosed forward and studied the man. He smiled at Blackjack and started stroking her forehead. “Fine steed you have there. Do you speak Elvish?” He asked. Blackjack drew herself up proudly. I could hear her giggling over our link. I sent her the mental equivalent of an eye roll and wondered if he had noticed her wings. Blackjack kept them tightly tucked against her sides most of the time, as they usually freaked many people out. Hopefully, he had noticed nothing strange.

“Um… no…I am just…a visitor there, that’s all.” I replied tentatively.

The man looked confused. “But how else were you able to converse with your steed? I was not aware that horses could communicate in a language other than elvish.” He slowly approached Blackjack, and softly muttered something in her ear.

Through the mental link, I could hear him saying something in elvish (which I _still_ haven’t been able to understand yet) suddenly, Blackjack shuddered, and the meaning of the words became clear to her/me. He was asking for her friendship.

Blackjack looked at me questioningly, and I shrugged. _Sure, why not?_

Blackjack then nosed the stranger, who chuckled quietly and handed her a carrot from his pack. He then turned to me and held out his hand. “I’m afraid that I may have been too hasty. I have not even introduced myself yet. I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and I will be your guide for the journey to Mirkwood. It is an honor to meet you, Lady Everdeen. Shall we leave now?”

“ _How did he know who I was? I never told anybody!” Well, maybe Lord Elrond and Arwen, but still…there is no such thing as being “too careful” about it. You never know who might be listening._ I shook away the question for now and hesitantly shook his hand. "Do you have a horse, Aragorn?" I asked.

He gave a sharp whistle, and a beautiful white stallion trotted up to him. He swung himself into the saddle and grinned at me. "Shall we, Lady Everdeen?"

* * *

**Six days later…**

“Spit it out!!! Spit it out!!!” Aragon yelled frantically. There was no argument there. My stomach ached, and waves of nausea were starting to wash over me. Apparently, I wasn’t quite ready to forage for herbs on my own yet. I spat out the roots from my mouth as fast as I could, but I had already swallowed some. My stomach still ached horribly. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Aragorn rustling through his pack, coming up with something, and then shoving it down my throat. I gagged at the sickly sweet taste and immediately started throwing up. After a while, I finally felt better. I sat back, gasping in relief. My throat was raw, and my stomach was complaining angrily, but at least the nausea and the sharp pangs of pain were gone. Beside me, Aragorn sighed in relief and slumped back against a stump, and then tossed me a filled-up waterskin to soothe my throat, which I gratefully accepted.

  After a short period of silence, I spoke up. “I thought you said wild parsnip roots were edible and harmless.” After so many days of travelling and watching Aragorn do all the work of cooking our meals, I had volunteered to help forage for all the herbs and spices that Aragorn used in his cooking. He had been reluctant at first, but had then given me a few pointers on edible herbs and what features to look out for.

Aragorn coughed and glared at me, “I did say that. I also remember telling you to stay away from poison hemlock. And besides, did I not remind you not to put any plant in your mouth without first checking with me?”

 _Oh…that would explain it…_ I groaned in frustration. “But the flowers were small and arranged in a dome, just like you said wild parsnip was supposed to look like! How was I supposed to tell the difference?”

Aragorn sighed and dragged me over to the offending plant. He pulled it out and pointed out the red mottled markings on the stem of the plant. “Do you see those markings? These markings are only found on hemlock.” He shook his head exasperatedly. “And did you think to crush some of the leaves before swallowing some of the roots?”

I sheepishly shook my head.

Aragorn crushed some of the leaves and put them under my nose. I immediately recoiled at the foul smell. Aragorn nodded matter-of-factly. “Hemlock has a foul smell when crushed, unlike its cousins, which can give off sweeter scents.”

“Right…I will remember it.” I sniffed and sighed.

Aragorn smiled wryly. “Maybe the fault wasn’t all on your side, Katniss. I should have been more detailed in my instructions.”

I got a sinking feeling in my gut. “Oh no… don’t tell me…”

Aragorn smirked. “I will have to teach you how to identify herbs, poisonous plants and their antidotes. For example, Olibanum…” He pointed towards tiny specks of substance left over on his hands, (apparently the result of shoving them down my mouth a few moments earlier), “is a common antidote to combat this poison.”

 _Ugh…I knew it, another class._ Aragorn had already been already been teaching me swordsmanship the last few days. I had considered myself a good swordsman (swordswoman?) back at Camp Half-Blood, and I could hold my own in a fight pretty well, but Aragorn was on a whole new level entirely. Every time we spar, he amazes me with an entirely new move, disarming me without even breaking a sweat. Thrusts, parries, ripostes, footwork…I certainly had a lot to learn. He had also been teaching me some rudimentary elvish so that I wouldn’t make a fool of myself when we reach Mirkwood. Honestly, it was exhausting. I certainly didn’t need another class. But one look at the mess I had made on the forest floor, and the hemlock roots, I knew I had no choice. _It does take a lot to survive in this world…_

Aragorn raised an eyebrow. “Come now, it’s not that bad. Besides, this is an important skill. I can’t always be there to shove an antidote down your throat whenever you ingest a toxic plant. Some plants don’t even have cures.”

I sighed and nodded reluctantly, looking down. Aragorn put a hand under my chin and tipped my head up, forcing me to look into his face. We had a brief staring match, before our faces broke out into matching grins.

“Alright, then, here is lesson one. Go and collect all the plants within twenty footsteps that you think can be eaten, and then I will drill into your head which ones are edible and which are not.” Aragorn relaxed against the stump, smirking.

I rolled my eyes, “Yes, sir.”

* * *

The following days passed quickly. After that little incident with me almost dying from food poisoning, we continued to make good progress towards our destination. We would ride at a casual walk for the most part of the day, chatting and laughing, in no particular hurry. Aragorn would also drill me on my elvish phrases while we rode. Simple phrases like “Ci fêl, (thank you), Mae g'ovannen! (Well met), Ni veren an gin govaned (I am happy to meet you).” Half the time, I could never remember those tricky phrases and had to depend on Blackjack, who had that instinctive grasp of elvish to help me out. _Aragorn never suspected a thing._ Lunch was often a piece of elvish bread eaten in the saddle, while Blackjack and Snowfire (I just gave a random name to Aragorn’s horse because there was no way I could pronounce its original name) ate out of bags of oats attached to their necks.

In the evening, we would come to a rest and stop for the night. We sparred for about half an hour, _(more like I got bruised and battered for half an hour while Aragorn was never even out of breath)_ , then I would be sent to gather herbs for dinner. And if I got any wrong, I would have to then listen to a long lecture, then learn the correct antidote, and then recite them from memory. Blackjack often found it very amusing, and would chuckle while I sat through the lessons… _most perfect form of torture for a demigod_. But honestly, I found that I was actually enjoying it. After dinner, Aragorn would build a fire, and then the both of us spread out our bedrolls and sleep. Over the next few days, I found that I was steadily improving. I could last a bit longer during our sparring sessions, and I could identify about half of the herbs I saw by the roadside now, though Aragorn would still laugh and point out half a dozen mistakes at a drop of a hat.

Overall, it was a nice trip. It felt so nice to be safe and relaxed, not short of time on a deadly quest, not being pursued by hordes of monsters from Tartarus, not having to be on high alert on every second of the day. It was like a long vacation from fear and anxiety.

* * *

Later, we hit the Misty Mountains. It would have been a long, dangerous climb to the top, but Blackjack just spread her black wings and flew to the entrance of the pass in about ten minutes. ( _Perks of having a Pegasus…_ )I expected Aragorn to take a few hours at least climbing up, and settled down for a nap, only to be woken not half an hour later with a sword slightly grazing my neck and Aragorn’s laughter. “A warrior never lets down her guard.”

He would never tell me how he got up there so fast, though I suspected he knew some sort of secret passageway or something. There was absolutely no way for him to get Snowfire to climb up the mountain that quickly.

For the rest of that day, Aragorn led Snowfire carefully on the winding pass between the mountains while I soared easily above him on Blackjack. I wondered, with a sense of terrible foreboding, why he was wearing that familiar smirk on his face, the ‘I-know-something-that-you-don’t-but-I’m-not-going-to-tell-you-because-it -will-be-fun-to-watch-you-figure-it-out-yourself’ type of smirk. I shrugged it off and continued to soar along the pass—until a Rock giant opened his eyes and tried to swat Blackjack out of the air with a massive boulder. It was too big a thing to be defeated by sword and arrows, so all I could do was to control Blackjack to swerve and duck. I stuck to the ground after that.

Then, there were times when Aragorn insisted on riding through the night and not stopping for a rest. The blood curdling howls of goblins and some strange creatures known as “orcs” rung through the nights, and that for me was enough reason to obey this order. I did see an unfortunate deer get ripped to shreds by several of these foul creatures, and there was no way I was adding myself to their menu.

* * *

Another full month has passed before we arrived on Mirkwood’s doorsteps. No, the word “door” was just such an overstatement, for there was nothing more than a small, decaying wooden arch, flanked by rows of trees that were twisted at rather painful angles. In the middle of the mess, there was a roughly cut out passageway paved in stone, weaving randomly, and sometimes giving way to the odd roots that barged out from the earth. No sunlight could be seen on the forest floor, so it wasn’t that hard to imagine what kinds of evil fungus and bacteria might infest there. Sick. There is a sickness in the forest. _Even the dumbest person could come to that conclusion for sure._

We weren't welcome here.

I got off and stretched my limbs, which were extremely sore from the long horse ride, and reached for Blackjack’s reins. This was elf territory, maybe even hostile elf territory, if Aragorn’s tales of the isolated King Thranduil were anything to go by, so…probably a bad idea to just barge in there like a brainless Minotaur. That was just asking to become living pincushions. Aragorn frowned and stashed his weapons away in his saddle bag a few meters in front of me. I could tell that he sensed something wrong. He took a few steps into the forest, holding a hand out to stop me from following. He stared intently at the sight of something between the branches and trees, and I could hear him drawing in a sharp breath.

“What is it, Aragorn?” I asked, fingers nervously twitching on my bowstring, ready to notch an arrow and shoot at a moment’s notice. I was definitely not in the mood for another orc attack.

“I apologize, Katniss, but I have to take my leave here. There are matters I have to attend to in Lorien, at the White Council. I need to seek a friend for answers.” He answered, voice and face uncharacteristically grim. His fingers tightened on his sword hilt.

“Well, can I help?”I asked nervously.

“No, you must move on. Go on, into the woods. You should be safe there with the elves.” Aragorn flipped himself back onto the saddle. “Follow the path. Do not divert from the path, my friend. This wood can be treacherous. Once you leave it, you may never find it again.” He said finally, grasping my hand and staring straight into my eyes. “When you find the elves, seek for the one called Legolas. Tell him my name and Elrond’s and they should grant you entry and safety.” He nodded politely to me. “Farewell, Lady Everdeen. I think that we shall meet again soon, though.” He gave me a quick smile, and then rode off with great haste.

“Wait-what? What path? Aragorn!” I yelled and ran after him, but it soon became clear that my speed was no match against Snowfire in full gallop mode. “Oh well,” I said to myself and turned back to face the woods in front of me. “Keep on the path. Keep on the path. It can’t really be that bad, can it?” I took a deep breath stepped onto the first stone tile with Blackjack in tow, ignoring the shivers down my spine as the floor creaked noisily under my weight.

Keep on the path? I could do that.


End file.
